


Cigarettes and Tea Cups

by delgaserasca



Category: Spooks | MI-5
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-04-10
Updated: 2014-04-10
Packaged: 2018-01-18 22:10:13
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,477
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1444663
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/delgaserasca/pseuds/delgaserasca
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Tessa and Juliet. Tessa always was good at games.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Cigarettes and Tea Cups

**Author's Note:**

> Beta by tigertrapped; originally posted to livejournal. Way back. Oh gosh.

The last time they met, Tessa held a gun to Juliet’s head and nearly pulled the trigger.

“Tessa, what are you—”

“Oh, shut _up_ , Juliet! Do you ever stop talking?” She shook; the gun wavered. Juliet was crying. She might have been, too. “Do you ever just listen?”

Juliet swallowed, deeply. “What do you want?” The words tumbled out quickly; they’re old now, Tessa thought. Too old to know the difference between a friend and a foe. Too old to change. Well, Tessa never did know the difference, and she never did want to change, so all things considered, she’d been ready for the endgame since the day she was born.

Tessa always was good at games.

 

 

 

 

“How’s Harry?” Tessa asks, stirring sweetener into her tea.

“Don’t ask,” Juliet grouches, but she’s smiling, too.

 

 

 

 

When they were just starting to get to know each other, Juliet would blush every single time Tessa swore. In the end, she’d do it on purpose, just to see that slow spread of rouge up the nape of Juliet’s neck, disappearing into the hair line.

Juliet taught her to swear in Polish; Tessa snuck in a bottle of vodka and hid it in her office drawer. It was a silly little friendship, Tessa thought as she offered the girl a cigarette, only to have her decline once again; she didn’t think that much of Juliet. Girl didn’t have any guts, none at all.

Then Juliet tried to play hardball with five’s upper level agents and Tessa thought maybe, just maybe, she’d been wrong all along.

 

 

 

 

They were young once, just like the Zoë Reynolds and Fiona Carters of the world. They had passion and morals, and a sense of excitement that left them breathless and wanting more. But times change, they grew older, and certain details had to be negotiated. You couldn’t stay young and carefree forever. Age was inevitable.

Tessa learned a long time ago how best to survive. Sometimes that meant looking the other way once in a while, whilst Harry Pearce gave the government yet another boot in the face. Sometimes that meant helping herself, pulling out new CIs and pocketing the change. She knows what people think of her now; she likes that image they hold of her, the bitch, the whore, the traitor. But look, she thinks, look at me now. I’m still _here_. And at the end of the day, that’s really all that matters.

 

 

 

 

“You’re sleeping with Johnny Marks, aren’t you?” Juliet probed. “Go on, aren’t you? You might as well admit it; I can tell just by that look on your face.” She shook her head worryingly. “He’s shagging you for state secrets.”

“It’s not like that—” Tessa protested.

“Bloody hell, Tessa!” Juliet dropped her cup into the saucer, the china ringing together. “He’s a loose cannon. He’ll drop you the minute things get rocky.” She shook her head. “I mean, honestly. What were you thinking?”

“You’re hardly one to talk,” Tessa snapped, “You’re sleeping with Harry Pearce. Ah—” she held up a finger, effectively stopping Juliet’s protests, “don’t deny it. Everyone knows.”

“At least Harry’s a patriot.”

“Oh, you do go on, Juliet!” She picked up the teapot to pour herself some more camomile. “It’s just sex. I’m just exercising my right to a decent shag every now and then.” She smiled coyly. “You know, now that we’re allowed. Women’s liberation and all that rubbish.”

Juliet sighed. “You’ve been exercising that right long before you had it.”

“You’re calling me a slut, then?”

“Harlot.”

“Whore!”

They both giggled. Tessa took a sip of her tea, turning serious again for a moment. “Honestly. There’s nothing to it. Unlike you and young Mr. Pearce.” She looked at Juliet over the rim of her cup. “Young, _married_ Mr Pearce.”

Juliet blushed. “Let’s change the subject already.”

Tessa smiled deviously, raising her cup. “A toast. To sexual liberation and the right to have a damn good shag!”

“Indeed!”

 

 

 

 

Oh, she thinks when she remembers, oh, we were little deities, spinning on top of the world. Sometimes it’s hard for her to remember how she got so low. Then she remembers that she’s still alive, and it’s enough – just enough – to keep her complacent over the minutiae.

 

 

 

 

She sees Juliet now and then, scurrying back and forth from the office. Tessa knows all the cold spots, of course, stays out of the line of sight. Every once in a while, Juliet stops on the steps leading to the door, and she turns as though she knows Tessa is there, hiding out down the road. _That’s it_ , Tessa thinks, daring Juliet to look her way, _that’s the old spirit_. She almost wishes Juliet would catch her, but the other woman shrugs off whatever old spook sense she has and carries on with her life.

Tessa lights up another cigarette. Stupid girl, she thinks, you used to be so good at this.

 

 

 

 

“—keep tossing me aside like rubbish!” Tessa fumed. “I’ve been here just as long as the rest of them and what do they do? Talk as though I’m not even there. And Harry! Don’t even get me _started_ with Harry Pearce!” She paced up and down the rug in Juliet’s lounge whilst the latter poured her a shot of vodka.

“That’s just how it goes, Tessa,” Juliet answered, handing her one of the shots, “You know that. We just have to stay the tide.”

“We’ve been staying the bloody tide ever since we walked through those damn doors.” She knocked back the shot; the liquid burned on its way down, making her warm and more than a little caustic. “What the hell would they do without me, hey? Do they ever think about that? Oh no. Harry and his precious boy child.” She snatched the second shot away from Juliet, drank it herself. “Little bastard. I’ll show him. If it’s the last thing I do, so help me, Juliet, I’ll show him.”

She stopped pacing, hand on her hip, toe tapping impatiently against the floor.

“Here,” Juliet offered, “You look like you could use a ciggie.”

 

 

 

 

You learn, Tessa realised, how best to preserve the self. You learn to keep just out of sight, just out of reach. They teach you to be spooks; you turn yourself into a spectre. You learn when to play your hand and when it’s best to cut off your hand and sell it for a better part.

Tessa always was very good at games.

 

 

 

 

She knows what Juliet thinks of her now, but she can’t help but look back to the days when the two of them were running riot over Europe, Juliet and her fancy for French toy boys and Tessa, ready and willing to do any job. They were both in love with a dream, a useless, deceitful dream. Tessa realised all too late that it wasn’t the people that were spooks, it was the job itself. The vision they sold to the agents, one of glory and patriotism. It was all a load of bollocks, even if Tessa said so herself.

(There was a traitor, and a lover, and a baby girl that never breathed. And that was it for Tessa Philips. No more innocence; no going back).

Oh, but to be so naïve all over again. To have one more chance! She’d dance under the arches of the Eiffel Tower if they’d let her; she’d drink martinis and smoke rough, red cigars, and she’d wear her short skirts with reckless abandon. She’d play the game the way no woman knew how, and she’d play to win, just like every time. She’d show them, every single one of them, from Harry Pearce to Jools Siviter to Tom Quinn and his little pansies. She was wonderful at what she did, a real pro. Tessa had always ruled the world from the front lines, and no-one had ever seen her do it.

 

 

 

 

“You know, you come into this job and you think, oh what a wonderful life, serving queen and country. Lah-di-dah.” Tessa pulled a drag from her cigarette. “But really, that’s nonsense. And everyone on the inside knows it’s nonsense whilst everyone on the outside is fighting to get in. We’re just full of hot air.”

“Yes, well,” Juliet mused over her martini, “I don’t entirely disagree. But Tessa, really, what on earth were you thinking?”

“I was thinking I was done playing second fiddle to Harry Pearce and his little boy wonders.” She looked at Juliet over the rim of her spectacles. “I thought you were, too. But here you are, Queen of the castle and you’re still just the figurehead, aren’t you?”

 

 

 

 

The first time they ever met, Juliet wouldn’t look her in the eye. Tessa walked straight up to her and held out her hand.

“Tessa Philips. I work for Her Majesty’s Secret Service. And you?”

  


**end.**


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